


i guess maybe it’s possible i might be playing it wrong

by TheJGatsby



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: (oh my god they were roommates), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Minor Angst, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Roommates, background bucky/clint/natasha, honestly i just sat down to write soft college boys and looked up to find 11k words, steve is terrible at feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-05 15:31:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15173762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheJGatsby/pseuds/TheJGatsby
Summary: Steve would've considered himself lucky just to get someone he could tolerate as an assigned roommate his freshman year of college, so he figures it's a miracle that he and Tony became best friends almost from the first. When he and Tony get stuck together for seven minutes in heaven at a party, Steve realizes that he wants more from Tony than just friendship, and it only goes downhill from there.





	i guess maybe it’s possible i might be playing it wrong

**Author's Note:**

  * For [red_crate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_crate/gifts).



> Shoutout to the Stony Loves Steve exchange mods for organizing this event, it was my first stony event and it's been a great time. Thanks one million to [ViciousRhythm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViciousRhythm) for being my eternal cheerleader and beta reader, the wind beneath my writing wings, and for calling me out on my excess of M-dashes and run-on sentences, which I didn't fix because I live to be long winded and incomprehensible, and also i was nose up against the deadline to begin with.
> 
> [BRIEF CONTENT WARNING]  
> So i did want to drop in a quick note here- there’s an offhand reference to some murkiness vis a vis sexual consent (mention of Tony lying to people abt his age so they’ll sleep with him, which I didn’t feel was significant enough to warrant a tag, but me and my conscience couldn’t be settled with not at least giving the good people of the internet a heads up since it does count as consent under false pretenses. he’s not underage, just young.)  
> [END WARNING]
> 
> This was written for red_crate, using the prompts "college freshman roommates (pre-serum Steve)" and "Seven minutes in heaven."
> 
> Title is from 2 Atoms in a Molecule by Noah and the Whale

 

Steve knows college roommates can be a gamble. His mother is still close with her freshman year roommate, but his friend Sam got a roommate assignment so unbearable he had to get special permission to get moved to a single halfway through October. It’s a crapshoot, and Steve’s well aware he got incredibly lucky, because Tony is… Steve and Tony are the precise inverse of the song from Wicked where they talk about how much they can’t stand each other. From the first minute they got along like a house on fire, each so nervous about starting college in a place where they didn’t know anybody that they were desperate to make a good impression on each other, and became rapidly inseparable, feeling after just a few weeks as if they’d known each other for years.

It was a relief, at first, just to have someone- growing up, Steve had spent most of his time either home sick or getting beaten up for one righteous cause or another, so he didn’t have many friends. Just Bucky, really, and Bucky was on the other side of the state now, so it was like being set totally adrift, and then there was Tony, who’s brilliant and funny and charming, able to fit in with absolutely anyone, and he chooses to spend his time with  _ Steve _ . They each have other friends, too, of course- Steve is tight with Sam, who lives in their dorm, and it’s not like he doesn’t still keep in touch with Bucky- but at the end of the day it’s the two of them that go together, Steve and Tony, buy-one-get-one.

Which is how Steve gets invited to parties.

He’s not really in the party crowd, but Tony is, and the assumption is generally that if you invite Tony, you have to be willing to have Steve as well, because if Tony had his way Steve would be at every club and rager with him.

(The main reason he isn’t is half about Steve finding the kind of parties that college freshmen throw to be stressful and boring, too loud with too many bodies pressed into too small a space, making it hard for him to breathe with his asthma, and half an inexplicable discomfort Steve feels watching Tony flirt like it’s his job. Tony is younger than everyone else in their year, and that’s fine, but he lies about his age all the time, to get alcohol or to get people to sleep with him, and Steve- worries. He thinks anyone you have to lie to to get into bed shouldn’t be in bed with you, and he thinks Tony shouldn’t do it, but the one time he tried to bring it up Tony just said something dismissive about being of age and changed the subject. But Steve worries about Tony a lot- he has a bad relationship with his parents, and he drinks too much, and he doesn’t sleep enough, and there are times Steve’s heart hurts for him, a little bit, because he knows Tony struggles and hurts in ways he doesn’t share and Steve just… wishes he would.)

But that’s how Steve ends up at this party, anyway. Tony got invited, and managed to coax him into going by telling him it’d be smaller, more relaxed, and it was the beginning of the semester, they weren’t busy yet, Steve can afford to cut loose for one night. So he agreed, if only to see Tony light up with that particular smile he gets when he gets his way.

He’s not having a bad time, so far- Tony was right, it’s smaller, and more manageable for Steve than the kinds of parties Tony usually goes to. He knows a lot of the people here, at least in passing, and the vibe of it is- relaxed, a lot more like a loose connection of friends than just a roomful of horny teenagers in a race to black out. Not that there’s anything wrong with the latter, of course- to each their own, and that one just isn’t for Steve.

He’s pleasantly buzzed, feeling loose-limbed and warm, hanging out on the edge of the party with a can of the cheap beer that seems to just appear from the ether at any gathering of four or more students, a strange inverse of effects like eternally disappearing socks or how you can never find something you’ve misplaced till you stop looking for it. He already made pleasant conversation with a few of the people he knows, got introduced to some he doesn’t, and he’s mostly just watching Tony flit around the room, socializing cheerfully with anyone who can catch his attention long enough. But he always comes back to Steve.

Just as he thinks that, Tony appears at his elbow, smiling brightly, a slight flush high on his cheeks- still just a little tan, somehow, even though it’s the middle of January- and wraps an arm around Steve, tugging him into the crowd. Steve goes easily, letting himself be pulled, until Tony finishes saying, “Come on, we’re playing spin the bottle.”

That stops Steve dead in his tracks.

“I would rather not,” he says, awkwardly. Tony pouts at him, and he gets the sinking feeling that his protests are going to amount to nothing.

“Please?” Tony says, leaning closer and tipping his chin down just a bit so he can look through his eyelashes at Steve.

_ I don’t want to _ , Steve almost says, except- he wants even less to be a spoilsport, and he’s not opposed to it, it sounds like fun, but he’s also not too eager to have his first kiss be in some dumb party game.

Because it would be his first kiss. In front of everyone, well into their freshman year of  _ college _ , and Steve still hasn’t even been kissed, ever.

He can just go for the cheek, he decides. It’s not like they don’t already think of him as kind of… uptight, if not a bit of a prude. Nobody will be surprised at Steve Rogers not wanting to kiss people he would only call friends under a fairly generous application of the term.

So he sighs, and lets his shoulders fall, and says, “Yeah, okay,” and goes along when Tony grins and squeezes his arm and pulls him towards where a group of people have formed a rough but clear circle, scattered on couches and chairs and sprawled on the floor. Tony kicks at a couple of people until they move over enough for him to sit down and pull Steve with him. They’re pressed up together, touching shoulder-to-hip, because Tony is a tactile person all the time and only gets more so when he drinks. Another couple of shots and he probably would have just sat himself in Steve’s lap.

“Okay,” says a girl Steve recognizes as Jan Van Dyne- fun and sweet, the kind of popular that delights in a little bit of well-intentioned social scheming and is responsible for a lot of unlikely but deep friendships. “You all know the rules, we each take turns spinning and whoever the bottle lands on, you have to kiss.”

A hand shoots up across the circle, and Steve suppresses the urge to roll his eyes, but Tony isn’t as diplomatic and lets out a quiet huff of disgust when Justin Hammer speaks up. “What if it lands on another dude? Or another dude gets me? I mean, can I get another spin or something? I’m not, y’know,  _ gay _ .”

Jan’s lips tighten into a line that would probably be a glare on someone less nice, and she says, “No, but if you  _ really _ don’t want to kiss someone then… you can do truth or dare, and the other person gets to give you the truth or the dare.”

Steve resists the urge to sag with relief, and he almost wants to resent Justin Hammer for putting Steve in a position where he’s  _ grateful _ for the douchebag, but he’s just glad he has an easy out after all.

He relaxes into the game, once it gets started, leaning back against the wall and enjoying the warmth of Tony next to him, wolf-whistling along with everyone at the kisses, laughing when they heckle. Tony’s turn rolls around, and nobody’s landed on him so far, so Steve tries not to pout when he moves away from his side for the first time since the start of the game. He spins the bottle and it lands on a girl Steve doesn’t know, who sits up a little bit straighter and blushes slightly, tucking some of her long black hair behind her ears as Tony moves towards her, then leaning in at the same time as he does.

It’s not a big group, so Steve is close enough to see everything, and Tony- okay, Steve knew he was experienced, because Tony hooks up a  _ lot _ , and he knew Tony had a reputation for being good at this kind of thing, but it’s one thing to know it intellectually and another to watch this girl practically melt as Tony kisses her, thoroughly, stopping just short of being too much. He pulls back, and there’s half a beat of tension because that was a  _ lot _ , but then he offers his hand for her to shake, breaking the moment and making everyone laugh. Steve can’t name the ugly feeling that rears up in him like a fantasy-novel monster, digging sharp, bitter claws into his heart, but he doesn’t like it, and it lessens when Tony returns to his side, close enough to touch, yet it doesn’t fully abate.

It’s Steve’s turn, though, and he leans forward and spins the bottle, landing on Hammer, who grimaces.

“Truth or dare,” they both say, almost in unison, both the first to use the cop-out, and a ripple of laughter goes around the group.

“Justin first,” Jan says, unofficial mediator of the game.

“Dare,” says Hammer, immediately, and Steve chews on the inside of his lip, considering.

“Do a shot of soy sauce,” he says, after a minute’s thought. It’s a quick dare, and gross but harmless, so it’s perfect for their purposes. Someone fetches a shot glass and the sauce, and Hammer wrinkles his nose in disgust before tossing it back all at once, gagging slightly as he goes.

“Ugh,” he says, sticking his tongue out and chugging his drink. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” says Steve, and regrets it a second later when Hammer gets a calculating look on his face- Justin Hammer is a dick, and he’ll probably make Steve do something awful just for the sake of it-

“Seven minutes in heaven,” he says, as if he’d peered into Steve’s mind and found the one thing he was trying to avoid, and then it gets worse, because his eyes move just away from Steve, and his smile gets a fraction meaner, and he says, “with Tony.”

Suddenly the haze of alcohol evaporates, and Steve feels everything in him tense. Tony sits up, and when Steve glances over he’s looking at him with raised eyebrows and a delighted smile, and-

“Yeah, okay,” Steve finds himself saying, unbidden, and then he and Tony are being herded into the coat closet, and they can hear the sound of people bickering over whether they have to be locked in or if they can just close the door and leave, and then Jan’s voice cuts through and tells them that time is starting now, and Steve isn’t claustrophobic but he can almost feel the walls closing in, pushing him and Tony closer and closer- except that’s just Tony, one hand on the back of Steve’s neck, eyes closed, pulling him in.

Steve jerks back, and Tony’s eyes fly open, and for one horrible second they’re just staring at each other, all eight inches of space allowed them by the tiny room being put to their fullest use.

“Sorry,” Steve says, immediately. “Sorry, I-”

“You’re trying to avoid kissing people,” Tony fills in, nodding in understanding. “That’s why you didn’t want to play.” He’s pressed up against the back wall, giving Steve plenty of room, and he looks- sad? Steve doesn’t understand, but he can’t help wanting to make that disappointed, half-forlorn expression go away.

“It’s just, um.” He shifts uncomfortably, crossing and uncrossing his arms and shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’ve never… kissed anyone before?” he says, staring stubbornly at a spot on the floor just to the right of Tony’s shoes.

“Like, at all?” Tony asks, after a beat, his tone the kind of carefully neutral that says he’s definitely judging Steve but doesn’t want Steve to think he is, and while Steve appreciates it on some level, it also just makes him feel a little bit small and pathetic- Tony is younger than him and has about a million times more experience with this, and normally Steve isn’t bothered but there’s something about having their histories stacked up against each other like this that makes him self-conscious and embarrassed.

Steve shrugs aggressively. “It just never happened. Nobody was ever really into,” he gestures vaguely at himself, at his whisper-thin frame and pasty skin and general air of awkwardness, “this, for obvious reasons, so-”

“Bullshit,” Tony snaps, and Steve looks sharply at him to see him looking a little surprised, like he hadn’t meant to say it. “Sorry, I only meant… you’re cute, okay? Like, not boy-band cute or anything but that’s- bland. If nobody was ever into you it’s cause they were dumb, or judgmental, or shallow or whatever, not cause you’re not-” He cuts himself off, shaking his head as if to clear it. “”We can argue about this later. Do you want me to kiss you or do you wanna Easy A it?”

“What?” Steve frowns.

“Not do it but say we did,” Tony explains. “You don’t have to, if you’re not ready, or whatever, I mean, nobody daydreams about their first kiss being in a closet with their roommate at some stupid party, so I get it if you’d rather pass.” He smiles that charming self-effacing half smile he has, shrugging casually, but it's a little less easy than usual.

Steve resists the urge to stare dumbly at him- of  _ course _ he wants to kiss Tony, why wouldn’t he want to kiss Tony? He doesn’t have a crush or anything, but Tony is his best friend, and he is pretty, and if anyone was going to be a good first kiss it would be him.

“I’d rather we kissed,” he says, with a boldness he wouldn't have expected from himself, at least not here.

Tony nods, and takes a deep breath like he’s preparing himself, and that makes Steve’s confidence flag, but he grins sidelong at Steve and says, “Sorry, I’m not used to being anyone’s first, it’s high pressure.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m not gonna know the difference.”

Tony’s grin broadens and he steps closer, one hand coming up to rest gently on Steve’s face. “Yeah,” he says, soft, a shift that catches Steve off guard, and he’s near enough now that Steve can feel the exhale of Tony’s speech on his mouth, and he realizes from the slight taste of warm, liquor-scented air that his own lips are parted and his breathing has gone a little shallow, his heartbeat picking up speed, and he doesn’t know whether to look at Tony’s eyes or his mouth or away entirely as he leans in and murmurs, “but I wanna ruin you for other men.”

And then Tony kisses him.

The first thing he notices is that Tony’s closed his eyes again, which Steve can see because his own are still open, so he shuts them tightly and focuses on the feeling of Tony’s lips on his. Tony’s mouth is closed, which is a relief, because Steve doesn’t know what he’d do if he was expected use tongue, and he’s just pressing his mouth to Steve’s, and it’s warm, and drier than he expected, and Tony’s lips are soft, and then he pulls back, and Steve’s eyes fly open because oh god did he already fuck up what could he have done wrong that lasted like three seconds-

“Hey,” Tony says, low, smiling at him, his other hand coming up to Steve’s face as well, stroking a thumb along his jaw, which makes Steve aware that he's clenching his teeth, tense all over, “relax. You’re just fine.”

All the anxiety ebbs out of him, just from the way Tony is looking at him, suffused with a warmth and fondness that makes Steve’s heart pound even as the rest of him grows loose and easy, all his fear and apprehension overwhelmed by the bright thrill of the knowledge that Tony just  _ kissed _ him, and it wasn't bad, and it's probably going to happen again. Steve leans in this time, as if entranced, and he doesn’t know what to do with his hands yet but he thinks he’s figured out how he’s supposed to move his mouth against Tony’s, just like that, the give-and-take easier than he expected, and then Tony’s moving a hand into his hair to tilt his head just so, and he runs his tongue over the seam of Steve’s lips, surprising a gasp out of him, and taking advantage of his open mouth to scrape his teeth over Steve’s bottom lip, lightly, just enough to make Steve grab for Tony’s hips, to pull him closer, and Tony hums happily, pressing his body up against Steve’s while he holds on even tighter.

Steve’s head floats off a little bit after that, dizzied out of his senses by Tony’s mouth, Tony’s tongue, Tony’s hands, Tony’s body moving ever so slightly against his, everything warm and heady and just barely overmuch in the best way. He never wants it to end but feels like it hardly lasts a minute before someone is pounding on the door, yelling “Time’s up!”

Tony pulls away slowly, taking a moment to open his eyes as if he’s savoring it, and when he finally does, he smiles at Steve, bright and soft, his lips still kiss-red, and Steve would worry what  _ he _ looks like after that, if not for the roar of blood in his ears, the way everything in him feels hot and lit up and alive and so nervous, like he’s suddenly too big for his body, and he just wants to kiss Tony again, kiss him forever, and never let go of him, and-

Oh.

 

The thing is, Steve genuinely didn’t realize how he felt until Tony kissed him like  _ that _ . He knew he liked Tony, sure, but- Tony is his friend. They live together. It’d be weirder if Steve  _ didn’t _ have kind of a crush on him, right? Just from proximity and familiarity and bisexuality. Like how you always have kind of a little crush on the hot teacher, or something. It doesn’t  _ mean _ anything, and it’s easy enough to just write off or ignore.

Except now he can’t, because now he looks at Tony and feels that same lightheaded rush he felt right after the first kiss, like he’d been plucked out of his body a little bit, and he can’t stop thinking about it. He’ll zone out during class and catch himself absently touching his lip, like he could find some trace of Tony left over there, days later. It’s starting to become a little bit of an issue, because he’s trying to act normal around Tony but he can’t quite remember what “normal” was, anymore. He doesn’t think Tony has noticed, but it’s just a matter of time, probably.

So he does what anyone would do in his situation: waits until Tony is in a midterm and guaranteed to be out for a while, and calls Bucky.

“Let me get this straight,” says Bucky, waving his hand, while his roommate, Clint, snickers in the background of the skype call. “You had your first kiss with your  _ roommate _ in a  _ closet _ playing  _ spin the bottle _ -”

“I thought you just looked twelve, I didn’t think you actually were,” Clint interjects, and Bucky reaches back to high-five him as Steve scowls.

“And now,” Bucky continues, “your crush on him- which already existed, like I told you it did, because I know you- is much worse and you don’t know what to do about it.”

“Pretty much,” Steve says.

Bucky takes a deep breath and presses his hand to his forehead for a moment, the picture of exasperation. “Have you considered just kissing him again?”

Steve huffs, irritated. “I can’t just kiss him, Buck, don’t be ridiculous.”

“Well you already did once, so-”

“It wasn’t like that,” Steve interrupts, because it wasn't, it was a pity kiss if anything, “he was just… being nice. He’s a good friend, is all.”

Bucky and Clint share a look, and Steve feels a sharp prick of jealousy, because that used to be  _ him _ and Bucky, but he tamps it down with the rationalization that he does some of the same stuff with Tony, now, too- it’s just the effect of being far away from each other. Making new friends doesn’t diminish what they've always had.

“I’m a good friend,” Bucky says, “and no offense, but I wouldn’t kiss you for less than a hundred bucks.”

“I’d kiss you for twenty,” Clint says.

“Are you talking to me or Steve?” Bucky asks.

“Rogers,” he answers, and then leans a little closer. “You I’d kiss for free,” he says, winking, and Steve barely manages to keep back a shout of vindication at the way Bucky ducks his head and rolls his eyes, almost aggressively nonchalant.

“Keep it in your pants, Barton,” he grumbles, turning back to Steve. “But the point is that I would bet money Tony wasn’t just ‘being nice,’ Stevie.”

“How much money?”

“It was a turn of phrase, asshole, you know we’re both broke. Tell me about the kiss.”

Steve feels heat rise in his cheeks and he shrugs. “What’s to tell? It was a kiss. It lasted six minutes. I liked it.”

“Tongue? No tongue? Groping? Where were his hands?”

“Yes tongue, no groping, his hands were mostly on my face and in my hair.”

Bucky narrows his eyes. “When you say ‘on your face’...?”

Steve shrinks a little bit, embarrassed to talk about it, even more embarrassed by how warm he feels all over just at the memory. “Like, I don’t know. Caressing, I guess?”

Bucky snorts. “Yeah that’s not just friendly, Steve.”

“Cosigned,” Clint pitches in.

“Didn’t ask you,” Steve snaps, and immediately feels bad for it. Just cause he’s worked up and confused about Tony and kissing and feelings doesn’t mean he should take it out on Clint. He’s about to apologize when he hears Tony’s key in the door and panics, quickly ending the skype call and switching to an essay he’s been procrastinating on, hoping it doesn’t look suspicious.

“I yearn for death,” Tony announces, dropping his backpack onto the floor with a thump and throwing himself on his bed. “And midterms can suck my dick,” he continues, muffled by the pillow he’s pressed his face into.

“That was your last one for a couple weeks, though, right?” Steve asks, hurriedly typing an apology in response to Bucky’s ‘ _????? did u die _ ’ about his abrupt hang-up. Tony grunts the affirmative. “So it’s over, at least.”

Tony lifts his head and gives him a dramatic, weary look. “This is my first year, Steve,” he says, with gravity. “It’s only just begun.” Steve has to laugh, which sets Tony to cry out in a put-upon falsetto, “You mock my pain!”

“Life is pain, princess,” Steve says, finishing the quote, and when he glances up at Tony, his heart twists for a second with the same  _ oh I like you so much _ agony-delight he feels half the time around Tony, and it suddenly seems a little too on-the-nose, so he turns back to texting Bucky in order to get his traitorous, swooning heart under control.

Me: sorry Tony just got home

Me: so you and Clint

Me: gonna practice what you preach about roommate crushes at any point?

Bucky: no

Bucky: he has a girlfriend

Bucky: her name is Natasha and she’s fucking terrifying

Bucky: so no. to both.

Me: oh

Me: sorry

Me: I didn’t know

Bucky: whatever, just kiss ur stupid roommate already

 

Steve does consider it. He writes about a dozen speeches in his head, considers and discards all kinds of different ways to say it.  _ I have feelings for you _ is too vague,  _ I have a crush on you _ too childish.  _ I’m in love with you _ is too much to even consider- this isn’t a dime-store romance novel, and Steve is a pragmatist who believes you can’t really be in love with someone unless you’re  _ with _ them, that anything else is just infatuation, no matter how intense or passionate, but  _ I’m infatuated with you _ is insulting.

Valentine’s day comes around on a Saturday, and Steve considered making a gesture, but it seemed too cliche, so he doesn’t. Tony gets him a chocolate rose, though, and Steve feels bad for not getting him anything.

“It’s fine,” Tony says, shrugging nonchalantly. “You can make it up to me by hanging out with me instead of whatever hot date you had planned.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m not the one who’d be cancelling a hot date, Tony.”

“Good, then there’s nothing keeping you from staying home with me and watching Nicholas Sparks movies,” he says, brightly, and shoves Steve over in his bed so he can crawl in, and that’s a lot all on it’s own, but once it gets dark outside Tony’s head starts drooping, and by the time they’ve finished A Walk to Remember, Tony is fast asleep, head pillowed on Steve’s shoulder.

They were in their pajamas anyway- Tony is staunchly anti-real clothes on a lazy Saturday- so Steve can’t quite come up with a good reason to wake Tony up and move him. He doesn’t get enough rest as it is, and… okay, so, yes, it’s selfish. Maybe Steve wants this, just once. Is that so wrong? Friends can sleep together, Tony passed out, he’s not taking advantage, it’s fine.

Steve talks himself through all the justifications before finally closing the laptop and leaning carefully over Tony to set it on the bedside table. He manages not to wake him, and they’re already pressed close by necessity of the bed being small, but when he moves down under the covers, Tony stirs and moves closer, wrapping one arm around Steve’s waist and resting his head on Steve’s chest and throwing a leg over Steve’s, like he’s trying to keep him from even thinking of leaving. Steve freezes for a minute, and then sighs and decides to lean into it, his arms coming up around Tony and holding onto him. He doesn’t think he imagines the soft, pleased sigh Tony makes in his sleep, and Steve’s surprised that his galloping heart hasn’t woken him up.

He has to close his eyes for a minute just to deal with the surge of desire that comes up, and this was a mistake just because how is he supposed to go back to sleeping alone when he could just cross the room and have this, every night? It’s ridiculous, but Steve doesn’t even consider waking Tony and banishing him back to his own bed.

He’s not sure how, but eventually he manages to fall asleep, and in the morning, he’s alone, and something in him feels hollowed-out and forlorn.

 

So he’s definitely intending to say something, eventually. He means to. But every time he thinks he’s got the guts, either something interrupts him or the moment passes or he thinks about the worst case scenario for a half second and the image of Tony’s face- uncomfortable, probably, maybe a little disgusted, definitely awkward- crushes all that courage like the whistling fall of a cartoon anvil.

He thinks Tony would be nice about it, at least. He’d probably say something about how much he likes Steve but really as just a friend, they’re just not like that, and then he’d be weird for ages trying to figure out what gave Steve the idea that he might be into him so he can stop doing it entirely. And that’s the biggest concern, to Steve- worse than the potential humiliation of rejection is what would happen  _ after _ rejection, because what they have now is so good, and that would change things. No more Tony leaning against him when they sit together, no more Tony crawling into bed with him to watch movies, no more Tony feeling comfortable and easy around him. The minute Steve admits his feelings, everything gets an overtone of imposition and lechery that’s just not there when it’s all platonic. In his mind Tony would probably even think it was a kindness- maybe if he’s less cozy and touchy and intimate with Steve it’ll be easier for Steve to forget he was ever into him. But it would be unbearable.

(And sure, he doesn’t  _ only _ think about the worst possible outcome, but the best possible outcome is easy, it doesn’t need to be worried about, and he’s fantasized enough about what being Tony’s boyfriend would be like that he doesn’t find it necessary to revisit it when he’s considering whether to say anything.)

(There’s also the other worst outcome, the one Steve doesn’t like to consider- if Tony  _ is _ into him, but not interested in being with him. Because if Tony offered something halfway, casual sex but no dating, more heart-pounding kisses like he got in the closet but only as friends, Steve isn’t sure he’d have the wisdom or the fortitude to say no, and if he got to have Tony but not keep him, he thinks it’d break his heart worse in the long run than Tony just turning him down at the gate.)

So the Tony Issue occupies more of his mind than it really ought to, while he’s also trying to muscle through midterms, and it’s a bittersweet disappointment when the decision is made for him.

The first week of March, they get an email from student housing about residence options for next year. They hadn’t discussed it at all, but Steve is lying in bed reading when Tony gets home and throws himself onto Steve’s bed, flopping over his body crossways and saying, “So we’re rooming together again next year, right?”

Steve closes his book and moves over, giving Tony room to fit himself so his legs aren’t hanging off the side of the bed, which he does, lying half on Steve with his arms crossed on Steve’s chest and his chin propped on them. “I hadn’t thought about it,” he admits, and Tony frowns at him.

“You have to think ahead, Steve, life comes at you fast.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, my schoolwork is coming at me fast, I forgot there even was a life after finals.” Tony digs a knee into his thigh. “But sure, why wouldn’t we?”

Tony’s smile is as dazzling as it always is, and Steve’s heart twists with the usual desire to reach down and pull him into a kiss, but he brushes it away. “Great,” Tony says. “Personally I’d rather move out and live in an apartment like grown ups, but first I have to figure out how to talk you into letting my obscenely rich parents pay for it, because it’d be ridiculous not to take advantage of them, but if not that then I’m cool with staying in a dorm, we haven’t killed each other yet so it’s probably sustainable, right?”

Steve has to take a second to process that- it’s not just that Tony talks fast and never pauses, but he genuinely hadn’t thought past the end of the year, and the image of a shared apartment is strangely domestic. There’s still an air of juvenility about living in a dorm room, how it doesn’t quite feel like being on your own, but living in an apartment with Tony implies a level of choice and commitment that goes beyond the luck of being circumstantially thrown together with a guy who turned out to be his favorite person.

“I’m looking forward to seeing how you try to convince me to let your parents pay my rent,” Steve says, “but otherwise it sounds like a plan.”

“Good,” Tony says, turning his head so it’s pillowed on his arms and closing his eyes, as if he’s planning to take a nap there. “I was worried I might have to live alone, which would suck.” He’s joking, but there’s a ring of honesty to it. Steve remembers a conversation they had once, about how Tony grew up in a house that was always too big and too empty and how much it made him hate being by himself. He’d never say it out loud, but he needs someone to come home to. “I don’t think I could do it, I’d get too lonely, or a robot would kill me or something.”

“You could always find another roommate,” Steve suggests, and Tony makes a noise of distaste.

“Nah, I only want to live with you. Having people in my space makes me too antsy.”

“I’m people.”

“No, you’re my best friend. It’s different. I’m comfortable with you.”

After a minute, he does fall asleep, and Steve tries to pick up his book again, but can’t focus on the page, so he just covers his face with it and stares into the small dim cavern of the pages. The conversation made him realize that he always considers the dissolution of their friendship as something that would hurt him primarily, but Tony is just as attached as Steve is. It’s easy for him to forget that he’s special, to Tony, because he’s not used to it, and because Tony has such a gregarious way about him, but times like this throw it into sharp relief. Tony is comfortable with him, and Tony wouldn’t- couldn’t- be like this if he knew how Steve felt, and Steve can’t risk upsetting the bedrock of their friendship.

So he won’t say anything, after all, then.

 

“You really aren’t going to tell him, are you,” Bucky says, exasperated. It isn’t a question.

“What would be the point? Even on the slim chance I don’t get rejected, I’m not… there’s nothing about me that makes an appealing boyfriend. Tony is, you know, he’s-“

“Jesus christ it’s not just about the stupid sex, Steve!” he snaps. “You’re not sitting here angsting to me about this bullshit for the umpteenth time cause of sex. Do you only want Tony to go out with you so you can fuck him?”

“No!” Steve says, immediately. “Of course not, I care about him, I want- I want-“

“You want to hold his hand and go on picnics and raise dogs together,” Bucky says, practically acidic.

Steve stares at him on the screen, at the empty room in the background, and says, carefully, “This isn’t about me and Tony, is it?”

“Shut up,” Bucky says, but it’s almost halfhearted.

“I didn’t think you liked him  _ this  _ much.”

Bucky runs his hand over his face and through his hair. “Not just Clint. His girlfriend is the coolest person I’ve ever met, so I’m... dealing with that.”

Steve resists the urge to wince sympathetically. His crush may be devastating, but at least it’s not that complicated. “That sucks.”

Bucky laughs, short and humorless and sarcastic. “Sorry,” he says. “I’m just… I don’t mean to be this pissed off at you. It just seems really stupid to me that the only thing stopping you from saying something is your own weird hang-ups about sex or whatever.”

“They’re not weird,” Steve protests.

“I’ve talked to Tony, like, twice?” Bucky says, “And I would stake my life’s savings-“

“All two dollars?”

“Fuck off, I’m just saying that if you ever man up and do something about your feelings, the only time your lack of experience is gonna matter at all is when he says some gross corny shit about making your first time just  _ so _ good and special and romantic.” He pitches his voice into a falsetto and flutters his lashes for the last bit, then makes a disgusted face. Unbidden, the image of Tony in the closet comes to Steve, his nervous smile,  _ I’m not used to being anyone’s first, it’s high pressure _ .

_ I want to ruin you for other men _ .

The more he tells himself Tony was just joking, the less he believes it. And maybe it’s just one of the faults of human memory, but every time he thinks about that moment it feels softer, more intimate, more genuine, like Tony really did go into that kiss wanting nothing more than to make Steve feel like no one else could ever compare, like any other kiss he had for the rest of his life would be lackluster against just the memory of Tony, and the worst part is that he definitely succeeded. If that was a joke, it was almost cruel.

“I changed my mind,” Bucky says, bringing him out of his thoughts. “I don’t want you guys to get together, you’d be too sappy and I could never talk to you again.”

Steve cracks a weak smile. “Shut up.”

 

Steve thinks he does an admirable job, initially, at not freaking out when he walks into his room a week later to see Tony’s bare ass, but then his eyes travel rapidly up Tony’s body and stop at the sight of his mouth wrapped around the cock of someone Steve doesn't know, which sends a shock over him like cold water and stirs him to panic and whip around, slamming the door closed behind him and leaning back hard against it. The image is seared into the back of his eyes, and though he blinks rapidly it won't go away- Tony sprawled out on his bed, one hand fisted in the sheets and the other around some guy’s dick, and Steve didn't take in enough of his partner to even put a face on him, so he's just a vague shape, a hand on the back of Tony’s head, guiding it, and Steve’s throat works, struggling to swallow or breathe or do anything at all, but it's just as paralyzed as the rest of him.

Finally his whole body seems to wake up when he feels the door move out from behind him, and he spins around to see Tony standing there, a blanket wrapped around his waist, and Steve doesn’t know where to look, because his mouth is all red and wet and his hair is messy and he’s not even going to venture below the neck, and all he manages to do is stare at the ground and stammer out, “I, uh, I- I’m sorry, I didn’t, um, sorry,” before turning on his heel and fleeing down the hall. He stops in the stairwell, once he’s out of sight, sitting down hard and burying his face in his hands. “Fuck,” he mutters to himself, miserably, “fuck, shit, goddammit.  _ Fuck _ .”

After a minute, he inhales deeply and sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face and up through his hair, and then pulls himself to his feet and trudges down another floor to Sam’s room.

”Jesus,” Sam says, eyebrows shooting up when he opens the door to see Steve standing there. “You look like you just witnessed a murder.”

Steve doesn’t bother disguising whatever haunted expression he must have. “Can I hide out here for a while? Like, the rest of my life, maybe.” Sam steps aside, gesturing him in, and Steve only makes it to the area rug in between Sam’s bed and his desk before he decides to just lie facedown on the floor, shrugging his backpack off and dropping it next to him.

“That’s gross, get your face off the ground,” Sam says, and Steve just makes a noise he hopes communicates his complete inability to care about that right now, or possibly ever again. “What happened, man?”

Steve takes a deep breath, pauses to wrinkle his nose at the scent of rug, then turns his head enough to look up at Sam and says, “I walked in on Tony hooking up with someone.”

Bucky would’ve laughed, Steve knows. He would’ve busted up and kept cackling about it for at least two full minutes, if not longer, and Steve would’ve sat there watching him lose it and feeling mortified and distraught and sorry for himself until he calmed down enough to be sympathetic. Sam just presses his lips together in a frown that Steve suspects is hiding the desire to laugh at him, and nods gravely.

“So is this a jealousy thing or an embarrassment thing or what?” he asks.

“All of the above? I’m never gonna be able to look him in the eye again, obviously, and… god, it was bad enough having this stupid thing for him and knowing that he was hooking up with people, but at least it was like an abstract ‘Tony has sex a bunch’ kind of thing, but now it’s  _ real _ and it happened where I  _ live _ and how am I supposed to ever go back without thinking about what he looked like when he was-“

“Do not describe it to me please god,” Sam interrupts, hurriedly. “I support you but I do  _ not _ want to know anything about Tony’s sex life outside of the fact that it’s the worst thing to ever happen to you.”

“It really is,” Steve sighs, and closes his eyes, just to check if they’re still etched with the image of Tony going down on that guy, and they are, and everything is terrible because Steve is pining and jealous and hyper-aware of how very out of his league Tony would be even if his crush wasn’t in total defiance of their friendship.

But now he knows what Tony looks like during sex, and that’s- more than he can cope with, at the moment.

“Can I just lay here and process for a while?” he asks Sam.

“Sure, man, whatever, let me know if you need anything, I’ve got readings to do.”

“Thanks,” Steve says, and pushes himself up to reach for Sam’s pillow.

“Nuh-uh,” Sam chastises, snatching it before Steve can. “You’re not putting my pillow on that nasty ass rug, either you mope in bed like a normal person or keep breathing in foot-germs.”

Steve heaves a sigh and gets to his feet, brushing himself off and taking off his shoes to set them neatly under Sam’s bed, the laces tucked meticulously in like always, before flopping onto the bed, his legs hanging off the end. Sam tucks the pillow under his face and pats him on the head in comfort.

“I am sorry about it,” he says. “The whole crush sucked enough already just living with him and I figure this is about a thousand times worse.”

“Thanks,” Steve says into the pillow, and waits until Sam is back at his desk to turn on his side and stare forlornly out the window.

 

Sam finally kicks him out at around ten, citing an early lecture and the necessity of Steve going home eventually (“You can’t hide under my bed forever,” he says, and Steve is sorely tempted to challenge it on the basis of yes he can, he’s small and there’s space and only shame and awkwardness wait for him upstairs, but he bites it back). Tony is still there- alone, thank god, and dressed- when Steve gets back, and there’s something a little bit soothing in the way  _ his _ face reddens at the sight of his roommate.

“I texted you,” he says, immediately, as soon as Steve closes the door. It’s their unspoken agreement- Tony sometimes has sex in their room, and Steve very valiantly does  _ not _ let it bother him, but Tony always texts him a warning not to come home for a couple hours.

“My phone was dead,” Steve mumbles.

“I’m sorry,” Tony offers.

“What for? It’s not your fault.”

Tony snorts, fiddling with one of his million puzzle toys he keeps around just to busy his hands with. “Yeah, but it’s fucking awkward.”

Steve shrugs. “Not like I’ve never seen you naked before. Let’s just forget about it, okay?”

“Good plan,” Tony says, and pauses a beat. “You know, if we had an apartment that wouldn’t happen.”

“If we had an apartment I’d have to hear you through the walls,” Steve shoots back, and that makes Tony laugh.

“I pinkie promise not to bring home any screamers,” he teases, and Steve manages a smile, but he still feels a little bit sick to his stomach, jealousy and embarrassment and self-directed anger churning messily inside him. All he ever does is remind himself of the lines and the distances between what they are and what he wants, but he still can’t keep himself from feeling possessive and resentful and horrid at the thought of Tony making someone else scream.

They don’t talk the rest of the evening, and Steve pretends to go to bed early, facing the wall and pulling his blankets up over his shoulder and trying to think about anything but the indelible mental picture of Tony having sex that’s been tattooed on his mind’s eye. He doesn’t sleep well.

 

For the next few days, Steve just tells himself, over and over, that he only has to survive the week, and then it’s spring break and he’s getting on a bus to Bucky’s school to hang out with him for the week. Their breaks don’t coincide, but Bucky’s family wanted him to go home for his, so the two of them agreed Steve would just spend his break with Bucky- it was cheaper for him to go there than go home, anyway.

Being around Tony after that day is painfully awkward, by which Steve means it’s awkward for Tony and painful for him. Tony generally doesn’t feel shame easily, so his own weirdness is probably more him picking up on Steve’s than anything. But Steve thinks he’s being better about hiding his own feelings until Tony says, one day, “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

“No,” Steve answers, instantly and easily. “Why would you think that?”

Tony lets out a gusty sigh of frustration, not meeting Steve’s eyes. “I know you don’t approve of… you think it’s trashy, when I sleep around.”

“I don’t think that,” Steve says, softly.

“Yes you do,” Tony insists, giving him a disbelieving glare. “You have this- you make this kind of face, when it comes up, and I didn’t realize it bothered you this much or I wouldn’t have ever brought people back here.”

“I don’t care that you have sex with people, I just… I think you deserve better. Than just hookups. You deserve someone who cares about you enough to keep you around more than one night.” Bucky’s crack about picnics and raising dogs comes to mind, but Tony is the opposite of outdoorsy, and he’s far more likely to build himself a robot dog than get one from the pound, and the fact that Steve knows that is half the problem, really.

Tony stares sadly at the floor. “Yeah, well, nobody’s asking, so.” He shrugs, dismissive, and Steve’s heart hurts, but he just tells himself that he’s better as Tony’s friend anyway, and offers him an encouraging smile.

“Someone will,” he tells him, and Tony’s expression is unreadable.

 

When he gets to Bucky’s, he catches him in bed with Clint  _ and _ Clint’s girlfriend, Natasha, so that’s an exciting turn of events, until he realizes that his immediate “holy shit bucky is dating his roommate AND his roommate’s girlfriend” text to Tony starts the longest conversation they’ve had since Fuck-gate.

“I’m happy for you,” he says to Bucky, later, after Clint and Nat have left so they can hang out. “I wanted this to work out but I didn’t know how it’d happen.”

Bucky grins, again, he’s been all smiles all day, like he’s forgotten how to be anything but thrilled. New relationship giddiness looks good on him, and Steve is happy for him, untainted by envy or bitterness or anything. He’s just glad Bucky got what he wanted- more than he’d wanted, really, because neither of them had considered “just date both” as a genuine potential solution, which they have to admit now was pretty narrow-minded on their parts. But it worked out, in the end.

“So now you’ve got no excuse,” Bucky tells him. “If I can turn two ill-advised crushes into one awesome relationship then you can definitely tell Tony how you feel about him.”

Steve makes a face. “It’s different. Clint was always flirting with you.”

Bucky stares at him for a long moment. “I don’t know Tony very well, but I feel like you’re not the best person to judge whether or not he’s flirting with you.”

“I know what Tony flirting looks like.”

“No, you know what Tony flirting with random strangers looks like. You’re the only best friend Tony may or may not be flirting with, how do you know he’d do it the same way with you as he would with someone he was trying to pick up at a party?”

Steve stammers a little bit, struggling for an argument, and comes up against nothing. He draws his knees sullenly to his chest and glares across the room. “Fine, I can’t  _ prove _ he’s not flirting with me, but why would he? What would Tony want with a guy who’s smaller than him and can list the full range of his sexual experience as ‘one confusing but really good makeout session’?”

“I dunno but I know what he’d want with his best friend, especially since he was the other half of that confusing makeout session.” Bucky sighs. “Listen, all I’m saying is that if he was really as committed to friends only no gay shit as you think he is, there would’ve been some kind of clarification after he kissed you. Or before. Or at some point. Even just an offhand no-homo or something.”

“Maybe he did and I just didn’t notice,” Steve argues. “Or he thought he didn’t need to.”

“I’m not a damn mind-reader,” Bucky says. “And neither are you, last I checked, so I’m gonna make a bold assumption and say that  _ asking him _ is the best way to figure out that fuckin’ enigma.”

Steve makes a face. “Can we not talk about it anymore?”

“Absolutely,” says Bucky, “I don’t wanna hear the word ‘Tony’ pass your lips for the rest of the week, got it?”

“Deal.”

 

10:43PM

Tony: so Bucky and his roommate??

Me: and the girlfriend, don’t forget the girlfriend

Tony: he has the kind of game i can only dream of

Me: no he has luck don’t give him credit

Tony: but like, ur ok?

Tony: w/ bucky being in a relationship

Me: yeah? I’m thrilled for him, why wouldn’t i be?

10:45PM

[Tony is typing]

10:46PM

[Tony is typing]

Tony: honestly

Tony: i thought u had a thing for him?

Me: gross, no

Me: he’s like my brother

Tony: oh

Tony: ok that’s cool

Tony: i’m happy for him then

Me: were you waiting to make sure i wasn’t heartbroken?

Tony: of course

Tony: if he picked them over u he’d be an idiot

Tony: and i would b required, as ur best friend, to hate him forever if he broke ur heart

 

Steve manages to avoid Tony for just over a week after getting back from spring break. He doesn’t like it- it’s miserable, actually, not just because he has to be up early and get back late and force himself to be on campus all day even though he’s exhausted and he just wants to go home, but worse than all that, he misses Tony like a  _ limb _ . He knew they were close, knew they were the core of each other’s social circles, but he doesn’t realize how bad it is until he’s trying not to see Tony at all, responding to his texts with short, dull replies, finding ways to occupy his free time that don’t involve his best friend. Steve tells himself it’s only temporary, only till he gets past this crush, but just looking at Tony still rolls him under a wash of tangled up yearning and envy and lust, this thudding heartbeat of  _ want want want _ , just as strong as it was the moment he was standing in the door trying not to stare at Tony’s debauched face and casting around for a course of action that didn’t involve him marching in there and tossing that other guy out on his ass so Steve could take his place.

“Temporary” could be a long fucking time, at this rate.

But he’ll never know how long it would’ve gone on before he either moved past The Event, as he referred to it in his mind with an excess of gravity, or just gave in to how much he missed Tony and started hanging out with him again, because Tony decides on the second Friday after spring break that he’s over it, and when Steve gets home at around midnight, he turns on the light and almost jumps out of his skin, because Tony is sitting there on his bed like every joke about a dad in a teen movie waiting for you to get back after curfew, arms crossed, glaring at Steve.

For a second he considers turning around and leaving, but Tony points an accusatory finger at him and snarls, “Don’t you  _ dare _ walk back out that door, Steven Grant Rogers, and  _ yes _ I know your middle name because I texted your  _ mother _ about you cause you haven’t been  _ speaking _ to me and I was-” He snaps his mouth shut, abruptly, and his hands fall to his lap, tightening into fists while he takes a sharp breath in through his nose. Steve shuts the door behind himself and goes through the motions of getting home- he takes off his shoes and tucks them into their spot on the shelf, he drops his backpack into his desk chair, and he’s started to pull out his laptop and put it on the desk when Tony snaps, “What’s your fucking problem? You’ve been acting weird ever since spring break, and your mom didn’t know what was going on, and I know it’s not about Bucky because it’s been going on since before he got into his relationship and you definitely told me you didn’t have a thing for him.” Steve doesn’t say anything, wouldn’t know what to say anyway. Tony frowns at him, scrutinizing. “You’ve been avoiding me since- is this about when you walked in on me and that guy a couple weeks ago?”

Steve freezes, and his mouth opens and closes a few times, searching desperately for a response, but all that comes out is an incoherent, stammered denial.

Tony’s eyes go wide. “Holy shit, it totally is, you-” His face falls from triumphant realization into hurt. “You could have told me you didn’t want me bringing people back here, if it bothered you, you didn’t have to be all….” He trails off, gaze dropping to the floor.

Steve considers letting that erroneous assumption be the end of it, because if he does, if he just says  _ Yeah, Tony, it grosses me out that you fuck people in the same room where I live _ , then he can avoid ever having to see Tony like that with someone else again, but- it would be a lie, and it wouldn’t fix the problem, and he’s tired of it, tired of carrying around this secret like his own stupid, self-destructive, irrational albatross.

“No,” he says, after a second of consideration. “It wasn’t- I mean, I don’t love that you sexile me, but it’s… not what I was being weird about.”

_ Weird _ . He hates it. He wasn’t being weird, he was being a coward, and a bad friend.

Tony rubs a hand over his face. “Then what  _ is _ it,” he asks, practically beseeching, “tell me so I can- stop, or be better, or just….” His face is crumpled in something like despair, and his voice is starting to wobble, and Steve  _ hates _ himself. “I don’t like this,” he says, small, like Tony never is, all his brash self-assuredness wiped away by Steve’s chickenshit cruelty. “I don’t like that you’re avoiding me, and I don’t like that I don’t know what I did, and I just- you  _ know _ I’m not good at having friends, and I’m scared, okay?”

When Tony looks up at him, Steve can see his doe eyes shining with unshed tears, and he just- can’t, anymore, he can’t keep hurting Tony, he can’t keep trying to hold this in and act like it’s going to go away because it so clearly isn’t, and he just needs to say it and let Tony reject him so he can be heartbroken and move on.

“I was jealous,” he says, quietly, staring at a scratch on the surface of his desk like it holds the answer to this whole fucking problem.

“What?” Tony asks. “You- jealous? That’s….” Steve looks up to see his expression drawn into a deep frown, running a hand through his hair and tugging at it in an anxious tic. “Jesus, Steve, if you wanted to get laid you could’ve just said something, I know I’m probably not the best wingman in the world but if anyone could’ve gotten you-”

“I wasn’t jealous you were having more sex than me,” Steve interrupts, once it dawns on him the conclusion that Tony jumped to. He grinds his teeth, struggling for the words, and manages, “I was- am, I’m still- I’m jealous of the people having sex with you.”

Tony’s frown disappears, and his eyes go wide.

“What?” he asks, softly, hardly more than a breath.

Steve laughs, high and strained, almost a little hysterical. “I- god, Tony, how have you not noticed? I’m crazy about you! You’re my best friend and I love being around you and you’re brilliant and amazing and just… beautiful, okay? And it was one thing at first when it was only attraction, and I could ignore it, because you’re my friend, but then we were at that party and you kissed me and I couldn’t stop  _ thinking  _ about it and all I wanted was- you. I wanted you. So much.”

Tony looks like he’s been struck, but Steve feels like a runaway train, like a dam bursting, everything spilling out and him powerless to stop it or slow it down, so he just keeps talking. “I didn’t want to say anything cause you’re- you’re- I mean, I’m not stupid, Tony, you only kissed me because of the game, and cause no one ever had, and you were only being nice and I  _ know _ better than to read into it, and I didn’t want to wreck our friendship just cause I couldn’t keep it in my pants, but then I saw you with- with him, and it was  _ awful _ , because I didn’t need to  _ know _ what you look like giving head, and I just felt so- jealous, and petty, and selfish, and….”

Steve shakes his head, the last of the explosion finally trickling down. “I handled it poorly,” he says, “and I’m sorry, and now you know, so we can just… forget it and move on.” Tony’s still staring at him like he’s grown a second head and said that whole speech backwards, and the longer the silence hangs heavy in the air the more it eats at Steve, till he sits down hard on his bed, burying his face in his hands. He all but declared his love for Tony, and this is- even if they can stay friends, Tony won’t want to live with him, will probably avoid him for the rest of the year, and the fear of consequences was foreboding enough when they only served to keep him quiet but now that they’re an inevitability it’s worse than he could have imagined.

“I wasn’t being nice,” is what Tony finally says, and Steve doesn’t move, can’t imagine looking at him now.

“What are you talking about?” Steve asks, hoarse.

“When I kissed you,” Tony says. “I didn’t do it cause of the dare, or out of pity, or to be nice. I mean, the game gave me the chance, but…,” He takes a deep breath, as if to steel himself, and powers on. “I kissed you because I wanted to. I kissed you cause- you’re cute, I told you you were cute, I don’t know how you thought I was being  _ nice _ when I  _ told _ you I thought you were cute, and I- fuck, I know you’d never kissed anyone but you’ve seen movies, right? You’ve got to- nothing about that kiss was me being nice or friendly or doing you a favor, it was me being selfish, because you’ve been so goddamn kind to me from the first day and I’ve never had a friend like you and I  _ love  _ you even though it’s a bad idea and I shouldn’t, and I kissed you because I wanted to know what it was like and because you let me and because I thought it was the only chance I’d ever get and I meant it when I said I wanted to ruin you for other men and it was so selfish and I was  _ not _ being nice.”

By the time he stops himself, Steve is looking up at him, and he has no idea what to say, how to respond. Tony is staring at him like he’s waiting for something, holding his breath, tense with anticipation, and Steve is across the room before he knows he’s moving, taking Tony’s face in his hands and kissing him hard, and Tony responds immediately, fisting his hands in Steve’s shirt and pulling him closer. Steve tilts his head and deepens the kiss and Tony makes this high, needy noise in the back of his throat that turns Steve’s knees to water and his legs go out from under him, pitching him forward on top of Tony, and their teeth clack together as they fall, and then they’re pulling apart, laughing breathlessly. Tony hooks a leg over Steve’s hip and tugs, rolling them over so he’s leaning over Steve, his arms propped on Steve’s chest, and he kisses him again, slow and sweet, and Steve is nearly shivering by the time Tony pulls back and buries his face in the crook of his neck. Steve’s arms come up around him, holding on tight, and he presses his nose into Tony’s hair, his whole body alight with effervescent joy and the thrill of having Tony close, pressed up against him, in his  _ arms _ like he’s wanted for so long.

“Tell me I get to keep you,” Tony says, a little muffled by Steve’s shoulder. “Please, I can’t- I’ve been so worried and I just need to know I’m not going to lose you.”

“No,” Steve promises, holding on tighter. “I’m here to stay.”

“Good,” Tony sighs, and kisses Steve’s neck absently. “Good.”

 

They rearrange their furniture, pushing the two twin beds together when they decide that just cause they  _ can _ both fit in one doesn’t mean they should have to, and Tony is convinced he’s finally getting taller anyway and won’t be small enough to squish onto a narrow dorm bed with his boyfriend anymore no matter how skinny Steve is. And sleeping apart isn’t even to be considered, frankly. Not that they’re doing anything more than sleeping- they’d been together all of two weeks when Tony’s hand strayed too close to Steve’s pants while they were making out and he panicked a little bit and ended up blurting out his anxiety about inexperience when Tony asked him what was wrong.

“Why would I care if you haven’t had sex before?” Tony had asked, seeming genuinely confused.

“Cause I don’t know what I’m doing and I won’t be any good, probably,” Steve had replied, wanting to hide his face out of shame but unable, since Tony was lying so close to him, one hand propped under his head while the other ran through Steve’s hair. “And I don’t want to… disappoint you, or bore you.”

Tony leaned forward and kissed him, quick. “You won’t,” he’d promised, earnest as anything, forehead pressed against Steve’s. “It’ll be good, just cause it’s with you, and even if you need practice that’s fine, cause if everything goes right we’ll have plenty of opportunities to get better.” His smile was broad and dirty, and Steve blushed and tucked his face into Tony’s neck to hide his own grin.

“You don’t mind having crappy sex with me?”

Tony had laughed at that, the sound warm next to Steve’s ear. “It’s really cute how you think the quality of the sex is even a tiny bit as important as the fact that it’s with you.” He ran his hand down Steve’s back in a long caress and snuck it up under Steve’s shirt so he could trace patterns in the dip of Steve’s spine. “We can take our time, if you want. I’m not in a hurry. If you need to go slow that’s fine.”

“Thanks,” Steve said, slightly muffled.

“Of course. What are boyfriends for?”

Steve hummed thoughtfully. “This?” he offered, and lifted his head from Tony’s shoulder to kiss him, long and deep and dirty like he’d learned he really enjoyed, and there wasn’t much talking after that.

But they put their two beds together, and Bucky- who was  _ incredibly _ smug- accuses them of being sickeningly domestic.

“Well, we are going to live together,” says Tony, when Steve shows him Bucky’s text. That gives Steve pause.

“Should we not?” he asks, cautiously. “I mean, we haven’t been together that long, you don’t think it’s jumping the gun a little bit?”

Tony puts down the rc car he was taking apart and looks at Steve for a long second, then gets up from his desk chair to crawl into their shoved-together hybrid bed and sit in Steve’s lap. “Look at it this way,” he says, draping his arms over Steve’s neck as Steve wraps his own around Tony’s waist. “We already live together, right? And the reason people wait to move in is cause it’s, like, the next step. But it’s not escalating, for us- if anything it’s  _ de- _ escalating, because we’ll have more than one room, so we could potentially avoid each other if we want. And if we break up-” Steve’s grip tightens, his gut twisting uncomfortably at the idea, “-then it’s not gonna matter to me whether we live together or not, cause I’m gonna want to move to the other side of the country and mope away my heartbreak in California anyway.”

“That seems excessive,” Steve says, smiling.

Tony rolls his eyes. “Well you don’t like me cause I’m understated, do you?”

“No, definitely not.”

Tony pulls away to offer Steve his hand to be shaken. “So, to one more year of roommates?”

“It’s a deal,” says Steve, ignoring the hand entirely and leaning in to kiss him.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [tumblr](http://thejgatsbykid.tumblr.com)!


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